Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
I wonder
how our great creator
built a vessel
strong enough
to contain my soul?

Each day my spirit fights
against my skin with violent
jolts as a young bird
seeking exit from a cage.

Unfettered psyche
free from me
bounces among clouds
rolls through deserts,
climbs volcanic ridges
migrates with birds in flight.

Curious instincts guide
my vital force inside and out
like honey bees
scour zinnias in full bloom.

Dare I release my spirit today?
Free spirit, soul,
 Oct 2016 Oscar Harding
Viseract
If only I had strength of heart and mind,
So easily could I leave my chains behind...
Ahhh, the past... how you influence my present and restrain my future....
 Oct 2016 Oscar Harding
Viseract
Don't cry for me, for I am not bad
Hey now, settle down, no need to be sad
My perspective on life may be different to yours
But lucky you, and unlucky me, I've experienced more

This world was not ready for the unstable likes of me
They say I'm insane but I see all too clearly
So wipe away your tears love, we shall meet again
In a place far from here where the two are not the same
 Oct 2016 Oscar Harding
Gaye
I knew they will come
In-search
Of yesterdays.
Today they came, jumping
the fence, somewhere
from the river bed,
where they lived.
While I sat inside
An air-conditioned cube
Sketching their fingers-
Like mine
They invaded a
Concrete jungle.
 Oct 2016 Oscar Harding
Viseract
Walking through the mist
Barely seeing anything but haunting faces,
Making me feel as though I am a time traveller,
Caught in a present where he does not belong,
As an integral part of an experiment he had no choice in joining,
And when he hits the line between chaos and order
With enough force to divorce such fault, and mix it,
It becomes himself.

It becomes me

So thank God for this mist
That I may not see the evil that is me,
And live the good that is the rest
Funnily enough, inspired by showering. Weird, huh? the "mist" is just steam from a 30-minute long, more than warm shower
How bad can a bullet be?
I ask myself this as I place
the revolver to my skull
and fire away at the land
of make believe; listening to the
crickety-clank of the hollow
chambers that trip and stumble
over each failed attempt
at breathing anew --
like a baby taut with its rope
gasping for life but in vain.
Let me go, somewhere safe, away from hell, away from pain, maybe something is to gain, in this place, a distinctive game, of blood and pain, all about the fame, I find it lame, this world in all, it makes me want to fall, and fall apart, its every day, I deal with a broken heart, I need to restart, away from life, heaven or hell, I live a ****** tale, I read back, the good days, **** I remember when we were a faze, you would talk about our kids, in the future somewhere, I always felt special in certain ways, I know now, it was all a game, not to you, but for god to play, with our hearts, emotions and all, sometimes I don’t feel tall, I feel like ****, left behind, would people notice if I were gone, I could ask myself, every day, when my heart again breaks, do they care, do they want me there, things I must know, is heaven above with heavenly snow, is hell beneath, with chains and murderous crows, making my fear grow, I act strong, high and all mighty, little do they know, I’m fallen and all pity, my life, well, no more than ******, I feel I’m falling in eternity, gods burning me, it’s clear to see, I’m a mystery, living in misery, I’m stuck In history, a ****** tree, my cuts all bleed, it sprouts new seeds, to bring me suffering, you think I’m bluffing, you think it is a game, of blood and fame, sometimes I think its overly lame.
Next page